


The Marks We Leave In Our Wake

by ash_mcj



Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Allison Argent & Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Siblings, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Angst, Bad Alpha Talia Hale, Burns, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Marks, Fire, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hickeys, Left Hand Peter Hale, Loosely Canon Compliant, M/M, Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Peter Hale's Kids, Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Siblings, Marks, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Petopher-Centric, Scars, all other ships except Petopher are minor, kind of, petopher, scratches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: Chris Argent and Peter Hale had done a lot of things to each other over the years, both physically and emotionally. Some were beautiful, some were horrible.Bites, blood-stained clothing, hickeys, scratches, tear-splattered letters, scars - they always left marks.Always things to remind them of each other.(Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Leaving Marks)
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152587
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	The Marks We Leave In Our Wake

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the poem “Start Here” by Caitlyn Siehl, and each chapter will begin with a bolded quote from it. 
> 
> ((The timeline will jump around a bit, but each chapter will be titled with what year it is and their ages))
> 
> IMPORTANT: I didn't use the underage warning, because the rating specifies that kissing and dating activities do not count. However, it is important to note that Chris and Peter have a 10 year age difference (which I believe is relatively canon, with how young Peter looked in those flashback scenes in the show). There is *no* sexual activity between them until Peter is 18, but they do flirt (because it's Petopher) and they fall in love over the course of Peter being 16-20. When he is 17, he kisses Chris, but they don't go any further than that. I just wanted to make that super clear before you guys jump in.

* * *

_**“Start by pulling him out of the fire and hoping that he will forget the smell”** _

* * *

Chris was seated on the edge of his bed, ready to finally go to sleep after his stressful day of gun sale negotiations, when his phone rang. For a moment, as he watched it light up with an unknown number on his nightstand, he contemplated just leaving it for his voicemail to deal with. Unknown numbers always meant work - either hunting or gun sales - and Chris really didn’t have the energy to deal with either.

He sighed as he picked up the phone and stiffly answered, “Chris Argent.”

_“Hello, Mr. Argent. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but this is Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital calling on behalf of Peter Hale.”_

Chris felt as if the air had been punched from his chest and the blood in his veins turned to ice. 

“Peter Hale?” Chris reiterated, the name bittersweet and familiar in his mouth despite its absence over the past five years.

_What was Peter - a werewolf - doing at the hospital?_

_“Yes, you’re listed as his emergency contact in his file,”_ She formally said, as if the revelation wouldn’t stab through Chris’ heart like a dagger. _“Is that incorrect?”_

“No,” he assured her quickly, though it _really fucking was_. He had no absolutely no right to be Peter’s emergency contact - he must have forgotten to change it. “What happened?”

_“There was an accident.”_

“Is he,” Chris tried to ask, but the words got caught in his throat, which was constricting almost painfully as his heart hammered against his sternum.

 _“He’s stable right now,”_ she said, but the hesitant inflection in her voice didn’t ease his fear in the slightest. _“He’s currently in a coma due to the severity of his burns."_

_Accident. Coma. Burns. He's not healing._

Her words were echoing in his head and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath, before telling her, “I’m on my way.”

Chris didn’t bother waiting for her to respond before hanging up and racing to his closet to throw on a pair of jeans and a jacket. He was just slipping his boots on, when Victoria appeared in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Going to Beacon Hills. I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Really, Chris? The mutt, _still_?” she sneered.

Chris froze in his efforts to tie the laces of his boot, to look up at her in apprehension. “Do you...do you know what happened?”

_Please say no. For the love of the Gods, please say-_

“To my understanding, there was a fire,” she answered monotonously.

Chris stared at his wife as a sinking feeling settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. “To your _understanding_?”

Victoria squared her shoulders a bit as she stood straighter and her chin tipped out slightly, before repeating coolly, “That’s what I’ve heard.”

Chris averted his eyes and bit harshly at his inner lip in an effort to maintain the last semblances of calm that he was desperately clinging to. “Heard from _whom_?”

“I spoke with Kate a little while ago...she’s monitoring that territory right now, as you know.”

Chris felt like he was going to be sick. “Victoria...tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous - I’ve been here all day,” she snapped. “You know, Gerard would love to hear that the pup still has you wrapped around his finger so tightly that you’d accuse your own family of straying from the code. You _know_ how serious of an insinuation that is.”

Chris did know. Just like he knew that the code meant jack shit in his father’s eyes, and Gerard had Kate and Victoria wrapped around _his_ fingers. He also knew that the twitch in Victoria’s eye meant that she was lying, but he didn’t have time to unpack what that meant right then.

“I need to go,” he said tightly as he brushed past her.

* * *

Chris walked briskly into the hospital and up to the Nurses’ Station, before quickly saying, “My name’s Chris Argent - I’m here for Peter Hale.”

Before the man behind the counter could respond, a nurse with curly brown hair and warm eyes offered to take him. As he walked with her down the hallway that was labeled _ICU,_ he couldn’t help but think to himself that she was vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure he’d gone to high school with her. Melissa, maybe?

“I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with Mr. Hale, but it...well, it might be _jarring_ to see him like this. Over half of his body is covered in severe burns, so he’s heavily bandaged. _Don’t_ mess with the wrappings, okay? Trust me - you don’t want to see under them.”

“Don’t worry; I won’t touch them.”

“Also, he may be able to hear and feel you - it’s always a possibility in coma patients - so just...be mindful.”

They stopped in front of a dimly-lit room, whose door was standing slightly ajar. Chris could only see a sliver of the hospital bed, where a pale, devastatingly familiar hand was laying on the thin, scratchy sheets.

Chris' vision blurred and he looked away sharply to blink back the tears that had begun pooling in his eyes. He wasn’t someone who often cried, so he hadn’t expected it to be an issue before he’d even entered the room.

Melissa rubbed his upper arm soothingly, before excusing herself and leaving the way they came. 

Chris reached out to push the door open, but hesitated as Melissa’s words played back in his head - _there was a chance that Peter could hear and feel._ Would he even _want_ Chris at his bedside? Would he even allow him anywhere _near_ him, if he was able to speak? Chris didn’t think he would. Not when the last time they saw each other was when he had the audacity to tell Peter that he was getting married and leaving Beacon Hills behind. Leaving _him_ behind.

With a steadying breath, Chris entered the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d disregarded Peter’s feelings, and he couldn’t just choose _now_ to start being a good person. He _needed_ to see him.

Just as Melissa had warned, Peter was covered in thick bandages. The entire right side of his body, his chest, his neck - even his _head_ was wrapped up. The only parts of him that looked like _Peter_ were his uncovered right arm and a small patch around his mouth and left eye.

He looked so _small_ without his signature smirk and witful sarcasm.

“ _Fuck_ , Peter,” Chris whispered shakily as sat in an uncomfortable chair beside the bed. 

He hovered his hand over Peter’s for a moment, before gingerly lifting it and bringing the man's relaxed palm up to his lips. He couldn’t help but inhale against the soft skin, and a broken sob escaped from his chest when a clinging scent akin to a bonfire filled his senses.

Once the dam broke, Chris knew there was no point in trying to reign it back in. He let himself cry for the first time in five years, his face buried in the warmth of Peter’s hand. He should’ve known better than to touch him - he could never keep his emotions in check when in contact with Peter Hale.

By the time he was able to eventually pull himself back together, his throat felt raw, most of his torso was aching, and he was sure that his face was blotchy and slightly swollen. 

Just outside the room, a throat was cleared to let him know he wasn’t alone anymore. He quickly set Peter’s hand back on the bed and looked over to find Deputy Noah Stilinski, another person he’d gone to school with. Being back in Beacon Hills was really turning out to be a trip down memory lane that he wanted nothing to do with.

“I’m sorry,” Noah apologized as he slowly came into the room. “I just wanted to stop by and see if anyone told you what happened yet. I figured you’d want to know.”

“Oh,” Chris said, his voice traitorously hoarse. “Uh, no - no one’s told me much.”

Noah nodded and took a deep breath, before saying, “There’s no real way to sugarcoat it, so...there was a house fire. It’s being documented as an electrical malfunction, but...”

“You don’t think it was?”

Noah looked conflicted for a moment, as if he was trying to piece something together that he didn’t want to think about for long. “The Hales live - _lived_ \- in a mansion. It was still daylight, so no one would’ve been asleep. There were eleven deaths...nobody that was in that house - aside from Peter - made it out, which means the fire had to have blocked every window and door before anyone realized. There were a lot of possible exits in and below the mansion, so...the fire had to have spread almost instantaneously. _Eleven_ people didn’t notice. _Or_ , there were multiple fires lit at the exits at the same time, with the purpose of blocking the family in.”

Chris sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as he tried to focus on holding onto the fragile composure he’d regained. 

_Arson._

His brief conversation with Victoria came to the forefront of his mind and any slim grasp at the hope he had that his family wasn’t involved slipped away. The only way that the Hales would have been unable to get out of their house was if they were trapped in by mountain ash - which meant hunters. Specifically, it meant Kate’s hunters, since this was currently her territory. Plus, he knew that she had people who were in high positions of power in the criminal justice system, who could easily sweep this under the rug - which, it looked like, was already happening.

Chris ghosted his fingers over Peter’s forearm and sighed. He didn't deserve to touch him.

“He could still wake up, Chris,” Noah said consolingly.

“Yeah.” Chris nodded, looking at the way Peter’s long eyelashes were splayed on the slightly-darkened skin underneath his eye. Chris wasn’t sure if that had something to do with the fire, the coma, or if he hadn’t been sleeping - but he hated it.

He wasn’t sure that he _wanted_ Peter to wake up. Or rather, he wasn’t sure that _Peter_ would want to wake up - and Chris wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He wouldn’t want to wake up either, if he’d been through what Peter must have.

People weren’t supposed to know what it _smelled_ like when their family was being burned alive in their own home. They weren’t supposed to know what it _sounded_ like when the tortured screams of their loved ones were cut off as they choked on fire and the flames. They weren’t supposed to know what it _felt_ like to have their skin burn and blister.

And God, there was no telling how long Peter burned before his werewolf healing gave up. Chris had seen wolves heal from some intense things before - he honestly wasn’t sure how much it took before they _stopped_ healing, while still being alive. How long had he just been screaming, _burning_? How long was he gasping, trying to breathe through the thick smoke before his body shut him into a coma in a last-ditch effort to survive?

“I know it’s hard,” Noah offered solemnly. “My wife Claudia is sick and it’s...it’s a lot. But the fact that Peter’s still alive means he’s a fighter. That has to count for something.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris told him honestly, recalling that Noah and Claudia had been together throughout high school. “That’s not the same, though. Peter and I aren’t-”

“Chris,” Noah cut him off, fixing him with a knowing look. “I almost had to arrest you two for public indecency, if you don’t recall. I don’t know what went down between you two or why you moved away, but I remember the way you guys would look at each other - so you don’t need to pretend that it was nothing. You wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t mean something to you.”

Peter meant absolutely everything to Chris, but at the same time, wasn’t allowed to mean anything.

Since there was no way to explain that, he simply nodded. Noah left him with a supportive clap on the shoulder and Chris spent the next hour gently massaging his thumbs into Peter’s knuckles as he looked at the remaining ash underneath his blunt nails.

* * *

By the time Chris made it home, it was nearing two in the morning - which was why he wasn’t expecting to find his ten-year-old awake and curled up with a blanket on the living room couch.

“Honey, why are you still up?” He asked Malia as he slipped off his boots and set them in the shoe rack beside the door.

“I could feel you were sad through the pack bond, so I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. She sniffed the air with furrowed brows, then asked, “Are you okay, Daddy? You smell like a doctor’s office.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Chris tried to assure her, but she frowned and slid off the couch to approach him.

“You’re lying,” she told him. 

The downside to raising a wolf was that keeping things from them was near impossible. Especially Malia, who was just as remarkably brilliant at reading people as Peter was.

Knowing that there was no point in arguing it, Chris sunk down to his knees and held his arms out to her. She immediately flew into them, nearly sending them both toppling to the ground. The second she got ahold of him, she began rubbing her face against his neck, scenting him, and he buried his nose in her hair. Her familiar smell of honeysuckle calmed him and the heaviness in his chest lifted just enough for him to breathe for what felt like the first time that night.

Over her shoulder, Chris caught sight of Allison and Jackson peering around the corner into the living room at them. He smiled softly and beckoned them over, and they quickly joined the hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks/Subscriptions are super appreciated!
> 
> [This is filling my Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Leaving Marks]


End file.
